


The Rabbit and the Crow

by TheEarlyKat



Series: Warden Leverette [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEarlyKat/pseuds/TheEarlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levy runs into Zevran</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“There is an ambush up ahead.” Leverette flinched and fumbled with his staff when Leliana pushed out from the bushes. She lifted a twig from between leather buckles and flicked it away before meeting his gaze.

Alistair took the news little better, but did keep his reaction less obvious, showing his discomfort through the loosening of his shield in its place on his back and a tightening in his shoulders. “Are you sure it’s for us? There doesn’t happen to be another wanted group of travelers around these parts, you think?” Morrigan snorted.

“I am sure there are plenty of wanted men, but not many that deserve themselves assassins. Unless you know of one?” Leliana cocked her head in waiting.

“I’m sure I could think of someone given enough time.”

“Time we no longer have,” Morrigan snapped. “That time gets shorter the more you fools decide to stand around.” Her steely expression turned from him at the sight of a flush and Leverette found them trained on him. “What say you?”

He licked his lips, finding them suddenly dry and devoid of words to speak. There had been some quip to Alistair about his foolishness, but it had died in his throat along with the courage in his chest the minute Leliana returned. Their travels had been blessedly quiet since the Wilds, aside from Morrigan and Alistair’s constant bickering, but that was more easily tuned out than the rolling thoughts of the Warden treaties. He had hoped their march would stay pleasant, but hope was not something Thedas was willing to offer much of. It had been only a manner of time…

“I don’t suppose we could simply…walk around them?” He twisted his hands against the wood of his staff. There had been a time when he feared splinters, but the repetitive motion had smoothed the wood down. There were no edges to catch on and keep himself grounded, but the simple task and the solid stave in his hand was a steady presence in his every-changing life.

“T'would not be my first choice.”

The rogue agreed with a node of her head. “Not unless you would enjoy the stroll through the thickets and the brambles between that and the road, I would also advise against it.”

“No, no, of course not.” He shifted his weight, digging the butt of his staff in the dirt. The weight of their eyes on him had his shoulders dropping to curl in on himself and make himself smaller, harder to stare at while he floundered for some kind of plan. Leverette twisted his hands again and the sweat on his palms made them slip even easier around it. What did one do in face of an ambush? Light them afire? Talk to them? The stump of his leg itched fiercely.

“They don’t know we’re coming, right? Aside from knowing we’re going to be in the area,” he added when Morrigan raised her brows at him. “What are the chances we surprise them?”

“Surprise assassins? Slim to none.”

“Slim is good enough,” he said.

Leverette felt a weak smile cross his face when he clapped a hand on his shoulder and he hobbled after them when Alistair gave him an encouraging push. Behind them, he watched the warrior slip his shield from his back to ready it on his arm and draw his steel, holding it out before him to prevent more noise than the clanking of his armor. Morrigan was readying her magic; he could feel the tug on the Fade like static on his skin as she pulled it towards herself to wrap it around and change her form just as quickly as Leliana disappeared into the shadows. They were alert, prepared, and how they continued to defer to him for every course of action or decision was beyond him. He was meant to stay in the background, to support, and his beliefs were only ever reaffirmed. He was not a fighter. He was not a quick thinker. He was…unprepared.

All of them were.

Alistair let the tip of his sword drop to meet the lone man whittling a stick on the side of the road. He whistled to himself while he shaved precise corners around whatever shape he was crafting. Thin shavings piled beneath him from a dagger and there was no question about his expertise in the weapon as each stroke was deliberate, steady, and smooth.

“You were expecting someone else, no?”

Leverette paused at the purr in his voice, not as deliberate as his actions. An accent - not Fereldan in origin then. How had an assassin from outside the country had need to find the remaining Wardens?

“Someone elses, more like.” Alistair had his brow furrowed, just as confused.

“Ah, yes, that friend of yours. Very scary. Very hairy. You do not sneak up on someones,” he chuckled, “barreling about like, a, well, bear.” The man rose to his feet and twirled the dagger in one hand while brushing his shirt off with the other. He grinned and twin tattoos curved around his mouth. “We shall get this started then, Warden?” He pulled another set of knives from his belt and Leverette dragged his staff in a line before his feet, throwing magic wildly into the effort to erect a barrier just in time for the blades to embed themselves in the ground. “My name is Zevran - Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens.”

Leverette blanched and the smile was turned on him again.

“That is you, then?”

“You are a part of a renowned and powerful guild,” Leliana finished. “Someone went to great expense to hire you and you would…give up all your information?”

“I would give up much more for someone like yourselves.” Zevran shrugged. “I see no point in attempting to fight the Grey Wardens that could survive the battle that killed all others, but if it is a battle you are truly looking for…”

“This is a trap.” Alistair lifted his sword again. “It is a trap, isn’t it?”

The assassin only grinned. His eyes drifted down to the edge of his blade before rising again. “If that is what you want to believe. You make your move, I make mine…”

Morrigan was looking at him. She’d come out of the trees, staying at the edge of their shadows. They were all looking at him, even the elf, for some direction, and he felt lightheaded again. “I…I don’t know what your plan is here, but we have a different one.” He swallowed. “Tie him up and keep him quiet. We’ll make camp further ahead in case this is a trap, and question him further.”

“I pray you have decent rope,” Zevran laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Leverette leaned over Leliana’s shoulder to watch her finish tugging the knots of the ropes holding Zevran’s hands in place. The elf rolled his shoulders back and flexed his hands once to test them before beaming up at her.

“You are quiet skilled - you know that, yes? You have done this before.” It wasn’t spoken as a question and Leliana did not give an answer other than another sharp tug. He winced and Leverette felt his cheeks tug to match the expression.

“That’s not too tight is it?” He wrung his hands around his staff, fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm across the surface between clenches of his palms. His hand slipped and a knob further down the staff caught on dry skin to tear open an old cut when the elf lifted his head and glanced at him through his lashes.

“You are making this much less exciting.”

“The idea was to tie him up and shut him up?” Morrigan was sitting by the fire, elbows propped up one a knee to rest her chin in her hands as she watched them. Another foot was stretched out and shifted when Alistair passed by with the heavy pot for boiling water and he stumbled over the boot in his blind spot to spill the water on his tunic. She watched his spluttering with pursed lips. “The idea was to shut him up?”

“Now that, I can agree to.” Her noise wrinkled in disgust but the elf merely chuckled. “What will it be, dear Warden? I am at your mercy.” He tried to spread his hands until the bindings of his wrist pulled and he settled with another roll of his shoulders.

Leverette swallowed. “I wanted to…”

“Gag me? Make me beg? Oh, that won’t be necessary but I can play along if that is your desire.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked his weight uneasily. “Question you. I want to question you.” He dragged in a breath before opening his eyes again to steady his churning stomach. He had a man, an assassin - and a deadly one at that if Leliana’s information was to be believed - tied up before him, thinking he would - what - drop his pants at a word? Was that his tactic? To catch him with, literally, his pants down to cut him down instead of an outright attack? It made his already queasy stomach roll a second time.

Zevran’s features cleared into an easy smile and he leaned back on his elbows, crossing his legs at the ankles. Leverette was thankful the glint in his eye had left and found it easier to meet his gaze. “Ask what you will. I have no need to hold back.”

“Leliana said you had to have been hired by someone with enough wealth. Who? Why?”

He shrugged. “The first question is always the same. Why is always the easiest - because someone wanted you dead. Now I will ask - I am allowed to as, yes? - who do you think would want the remaining Grey Wardens dead, hm? Not anyone in Antiva I’m sure you are thinking.”

Leverette’s grip tightened and the action stung the cut in his hand. “Loghain?” When the elf nodded, he glanced over his shoulder to search for Alistair. Out of earshot, thankfully, and complaining to Leliana about his tunic while she helped him to hang it over the fire. The mage crouched down to limit being overheard nonetheless. “Loghain hired you and you thought maybe it was a good idea to not kill us in the end?”

“I’m not seeing me make any complaints about keeping you alive.” His grin split wider while his eyes roamed down his form and Levertte felt a shiver run down his spine. “Mm, no, definitely no complaints.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Can we…?”

Zevran uncrossed his legs and sat up. “You are much nicer than other captors, you know this?”

“You’ve…been captured by other people you’ve tried to assassinate?”

He laughed. “Well, no, but I assume most would be for the gagging and the begging and what have you. You, instead, are only asking. Which, as you can likely guess, is far different from I picture.”

“I, ah, thank you? I think?”

“You are also not so bad on the eyes.”

Leverette rolled his eyes. “That was more what I was expecting from you.”

“Expecting? Already? Oh, have we become so close already?” Zevran leaned forward as much as his bonds allowed. “If we are to be getting to know each other - know this: I was not expecting this outcome. I was expecting for the ambush to be found and for the Wardens to attack with no preamble. I was not expecting to make it out alive.” Leverette’s eyebrows rose and he smiled. “Yes, it is surprising. Why take on an offer you do not think to complete?”

“Does this mean you’re going to go back to your assassins? The Crows?”

“I was not planning on ever joining the Crows, but that is a much less interesting tale than the one being told presently. They are not so bad, They keep a man supplied, with wine, women, and or whatever you happen to fancy. Not that there will be much supplying at this point. Which brings us to this point.” He paused, and the mage was content to let it stretch on rather than fill it, hoping his silence was taken for something other than his confusion and lack of response. The curve of the elf’s smirk spoke for itself. “I did not fulfill my mission so my life is forfeit. If not you, then the Crows. The thing is, I am thinking I would like to live a little bit longer. I was not exaggerating when I said I was at your mercy.”

“And you think I’ll just…let you join us? After you were hired to kill us?”

“I did not do any killing if you remember.”

Leverette rose to his feet, lifting himself up with the help of his staff and passed it from hand to hand. The elf, the assassin, that did not want to be an assassin, had risked his life in the hopes that, in the end, he would die. That outlook…wasn’t much different from his own. A powerful guild, taking him away without his prior knowledge, forcing teachings on him that he might not have wanted if given a choice and tossed back out into a world that was not his to explore. The Crows - the Circles. The…way Zevran looked at him like a person rather than a mage or a leader. His face flushed.

“I’ll have some explaining to do.”

Zevran’s smile was soft and easier than his earlier ones, free from forced emotion, and Leverette liked the expression and the softer edge of the tattoos that curved with it from the earlier ones. “It is always easier to start earlier rather than later, dear Warden.”


	3. Chapter 3

"I will admit, I have not tied up many a man I did not trust like that," Morrigan said. Leverette finished loosening the ropes around Zevran's hands and let the elf tug himself free. He snatched up the rope and pocketed it for future use and held a hand out after watching the elf rub at his wrists. "Do you intend to let him go?"

"Not exactly." The elf's hands were warm and rough in his, and he found the extent of callouses from years of knife handing when Leverette let magic stutter like some cautious fireflies atop his fingers. He hesitated, hands shaking just above the swollen skin of Zevran's arm long enough for the assassin to pull away if he wished, and let creationism hasten the flow of blood to his extremities when he made no move to take his arm back. 

"'Tis not some fairy tale like those of the books." Her eyes flashed bright in time with a crack of the campfire and Leverette dusted his pants off to avoid meeting them. "There is no happy ending. To any of our stories."

"That depends on the happy ending you are looking for." Zevran rose to his feet in one fluid motion that arched his back and stretched his arms, and, with a wink to Leverette, he joined Morrigan by the fire. Leverette dragged his eyes up from the curve of his torso and flushed at the smirk tossed his way. The effort it took for the elf to sway past the fire was minimal and the shadows he cast purposeful. The elf was graceful and confident and, beautiful, Leverette did have to admit after seeing his features up close - everything the mage wanted to be an was denied. 

There was no confidence to be had in the presence of the Templars, not when they loomed over thin shoulders shaking with fear and never able to fill out the robes that spilled over them. Grace was saved for only the healers. Special attention must be paid when mending bone and sewing skin, but any finesse in fire and force was quickly staunched before it could be used for something more daring than lighting a candle. No other mages were allowed to perfect their talents and Leverette curled his clumsy hands into fists and followed Zevran's path to the fire. 

He lingered when he caught the glint of steel. 

The assassin stroked a oiled cloth down the naked blade and Leverette eyed it before shifting his glance towards Morrigan. She bounced one heel against the ground, bored in her watch, but her shoulders were relaxed and here stave placed on the ground in reach but not in her hands. 

"How do I know you won't kill me in my sleep?" 

Morrigan snorted. "You thought to ask this now?"

Zevran agreed with a laugh. "I believe you had answered your own question with the untying of the ropes." He twirled the knife in his hand with a smooth flick of his wrist but the obvious display of weaponry did not scare him as before, not when the assassin was grinning up at him. "I may do other things in you sleep just as wicked." 

Leverette's eyebrows shot up and heat crossed his face hotter than if he'd spent the night facing the fire. His knee trembled and nearly knocked the staff out of his hands. "I- I don't-" He dropped his eyes, unable to keep watching the sharp slash of Zevran's mouth cutting a sly smirk across his face and found the movement of the cloth passing over dagger and back just as disarming. He shot Morrigan a look but the furrow in her brow was only for the elf's back. 

"Don't what? Is the witch trying to get you to eat a bug again? She almost got me last time." The sudden clank of armor as Alistair pressed out of the woods with a bundle of firewood made him jump. Alistair dusted his hands off, wincing when he dug a splinter out of his hand with a nail, and paused when he spotted the third person sitting in the camp. "Don't tell me she told you to keep the thing?" His weak chuckle ended on a whine. 

Leverette never raised his eyes from the ground and kept his chin tucked to his chest. "I..." He swallowed and brushed off Alistair's reaching hand to march towards his tent. He would sleep that night, and not in fear of a dagger in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this is as good as time as any to mention that Leverette is asexual.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly amazed that there are people reading these fics. I didn't expect anyone to be interested let alone leave kudos and it's been making my week. Thank you guys so much.
> 
> If you want, I post updates of fics and things for Levy on my [writing blog](http://theearlykat.tumblr.com/).


End file.
